


THUMP

by Literarion



Series: OLHTS Crack [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, Fluff (litteral), M/M, Snake Crowley, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/pseuds/Literarion
Summary: Crack prompt: Aziraphale's Magic ActCrowley wakes up to a thumping in the deep...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: OLHTS Crack [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742359
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	THUMP

THUMP.

Crowley shot up from where he had napped on the sofa in the back room. Eyes blown wide, he turned his head left and right rapidly, and stuck out his tongue to get a scent. He couldn't smell anything suspicious. No sulphur. No brimstone. That was … good, he supposed. But then…

THUMP.

He jerked around, trying to locate the sound. What the Heaven was this? And where was … looking around, Crowley noticed the distinct absence of one angel, who was meant to sit in his wingback armchair with a book and cocoa. He was not there. Crowley froze. 

THUMP.

Blessed angel, where was he and _what was this thumping?_ It must have come from the stairwell. Crowley slid slowly off the sofa and crept towards the door in the back. Not breathing. Not making a sound. 

THUMP.

Definitely the stairwell. Was this Hell? That sounded like hooves stamping. Kirzoz, maybe? He hadn't seen the other demon in a long while, but the sound might fit? Whom would Hell send after them, when hellfire and holy water had failed? Crowley crept closer, and slowly, oh so slowly, opened the door, just a crack.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP.

"Oh no!"

His heart dropped. The thumping came from the bookshop's cellar. And so did the angel's voice.

THUMPTHUMP.

"Dear boy, please be reasonable. I have no intention of hurting you!"

Crowley flung the door open. Blessed angel, of course he'd try and _talk_ a demon into reason. " _That will not work! Angel! RUN!_ " he wanted to shout, but stopped himself. The intruder clearly had encountered the angel, and while the situation seemed dangerous - Hell certainly still wanted them both dead after what happened last week - the angel didn't sound... 

THUMP.

"Calm down, will you?!"

No. Not frightened. More … annoyed? Exasperated? Whoever it was down there, they clearly weren't all that threatening. They also did not know Crowley was here. Better to keep it that way. He shuddered, and bit his lip. Then he transformed, and slowly slithered through the gap in the door, and down the stairs.

THUMP.

There was low light in the cellar, it was stuffed with boxes. Everything smelled of paper. Of course, there would be more books stored down here. The smell was so overwhelming, it was hard to distinguish anything else. He slowly slithered towards the light. 

THUMP.

Closer now. Crowley could see the angel when he peeked around a stack of boxes. He was hunched by the other wall, on his knees no less, his eyes turned down. Unarmed. Was someone standing over him? Blessed boxes, blessed light blessed smell, Crowley was practically blind! But he also still couldn't smell a threat.

THUMP.

"Now, really. Will you calm down so I can take you home!"

Home … What? Crowley tried to make out who the angel was looking at. He slithered around the corner, but all he could see was a bit of … fur? And … was that an ear? Not Kirzoz then, he didn't have …

THUMP.

"Now, really! Will you stop this and come here right this minute!"

Crowley wasn't certain if that was a call to him or the intruder, but he was done taking chances. Not with this bookshop. Not with this _angel_. He shot around the corner, hissing madly, fangs exposed.

Now, several things happened at once.

There was another THUMP.

Crowley caught a whiff of something that smelled like … dinner? He shot towards it, and heard soft feet hopping away on stone floor, and, simultaneously, a scream from the angel: "HARRY! Crowley, NO!". Then he felt something heavy land on top of him with a thud. That something smelled amazing, like old books and petrichor, and _home_. But it was also … well, heavy, and he didn't have all that much body mass right now to cope with that. 

He transformed back, and instantly questioned the wisdom of _that_ decision, finding himself straddled by one warm and soft and … rather furious angel.

"Crowley! What on Earth are you doing?! I nearly had him! Oh drat, now he's hopped off again, and I won't get him out of that corner for another hour at least!" Aziraphale whined. 

"Who the hell are you talking about? Were you being attacked? Wait, did you say Harry!?"

"… oh." the angel sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry my dear boy. No, I am not being attacked at all. It's just … well …"

"Yes?" Crowley prompted

"Well, you see, the last two weeks have been rather eventful. What with the whole antichrist business, and the encounters with Heaven and Hell, and then our dinners and that really lovely opera you took me to …"

"Yeees?"

"And, well, so, you see, I'm sure you remember my magic act at Warlock's birthday party…"

"Yes. Of course. Much as I wish I wouldn't. Angel, spill! What on Earth is going on?!" Crowley tried to fpcus on the conversation, on the receding wave of adrenaline for the assumed threat … instead of the the position in which they were having this conversation. Namely, Crowley lying on the floor, with Aziraphale essentially sitting on his lap, one knee either side of his hip, and wringing his hands. He would not comment on it. He. Would. Not. 

"That's what I'm getting to! You must remember Harry. The rabbit? I pulled him out of my hat and now … well, I didn't manage to pass him on to the very nice lady that wanted to adopt him, you see, what with all that was going on. I'm afraid I just cannot catch him! And what with you hunting him as a snake, he'll just burrow down somewhere and hide now!" Aziraphale looked dismayed at the place between two stacks of boxes, where that white bit of fluff had disappeared a moment ago. 

THUMP. Harry responded.

"Harry. The rabbit." Crowley huffed. He would deny a note of fondness in that huff, though it was definitely there. He also tried very hard not to think about the angel. Who was. Still. In. His. Lap.

"Yes." Aziraphale wriggled uncomfortably. Crowley's situation got simultaneously more, and less, comfortable, in that way that only angels wriggling in your lap can achieve.

"Where … where did you get him from in the first place?" he pressed out through his teeth.

"An animal shelter, of course! I had arranged for someone to adopt him after, where he could live a very happy bunny life. Just, I need to catch him first." Aziraphale looked around again, looked down into Crowley's face, and maybe he noticed something there, or he just realised just what he was doing, and blushed furiously. "Oh dear, what have I been thinking!? Get up, my dear!" He struggled up, then reached down to pull Crowley to his feet. 

"Angel. You are … " Crowley could not finish that sentence, for fear of saying something that was _too_ true. He was still processing what had just happened. And tried to discreetly adjust himself. This was all … a bit much. But at least there was something he could do. He sighed, looked Aziraphale in the eyes, and snapped nonchalantly. A large box filled with straw and hay and one very surprised rabbit found itself in the passenger seat of the Bentley. Aziraphale looked at him fondly. "My dear boy, you are too…"

"You better do not finish that sentence, angel." Crowley threatened, but there was no bite in it. "What you should do is get in the car and tell me where that lady lives, before _Harry_ decides to do his business on the front seat. I swear angel, if she smells of bunny poo when this is over…"

Aziraphale huffed, took Crowley's hand, and pulled him back up the stairs. "Of course! Come along, dear boy. And how about we stop by that Thai takeaway on the way back? And I have a very nice bottle of Carménère for us later. What do you think?"

"Whatever you want, angel." Crowley followed. Of course he did. And whether that was a smirk or a smile on his face while he did so, nobody needed to know.


End file.
